


closure

by creepygrrrrl



Category: Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Torture, Body Horror, Character Death, Disturbing Themes, Engaged Oliver, Gore, M/M, Not for the faint of heart, Teeth, Why Did I Write This?, deeply disturbed and snapped elio, don’t read this I’m sorry, elio DID THAT, its 6am i am SORRY, oh to see without my eyes, some things have symbolism if u squint ig, torture fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepygrrrrl/pseuds/creepygrrrrl
Summary: Oliver seeks closure.
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	closure

**Author's Note:**

> i’m sorry. don’t read this. i’ve read too many fucked up fanficfions in my day and decided as a JOKE to write this. also just because, i decided oliver is sporting an engagement ring, just to help set off the ~tone~ for what’s about to go down
> 
> also i haven’t rly polished thru this, so there may be errors in spelling and/or the like. prob gonna end up deleting too. ~_~

somewhere in northern italy, 1984.

“Can I see you again?” the voice on the other end spoke, the words laced with delicacy and tension, dripping with fear and desire. Elio sat there, back of his head propped up against the wall, his gaze looking up fixated at the textures of the ceiling. It could’ve been a moment that passed, or a lifetime, he didn’t quite know how time worked anymore after he picked up the phone’s receiver and heard his familiar voice. His heart felt as though it was beating out of its cage but could beat no longer, all at once. The words replaying in his mind over and over, like a mantra.

_ I’m in the city. _

_ The wedding is next month. _

_ I need closure. _

The words ping ponged themselves in all corners of his mind. A small smile creeped onto the corner of his mouth, curving ever so slightly upward. “Of course you can,” he finally said after what felt like eternity to both men. 

His parents were wary at first, but understood. Again with the  _ you can always talk to us  _ speeches, and such. But the thoughts that occupied Elio’s mind were thoughts that were better left unspoken. This was needed. This was necessary. Like a bad habit of picking at a scab, preventing it’s healing process. To another person, this was an act of something that should be stopped, but to the scab-picker it was an addiction. Sometimes creating a scab just for the purpose of picking away at the irritated flesh, bleeding and infection be damned. 

If seeing Oliver again was going to put another scab on his heart, then he would be forced to pick at it.  _ Needed  _ to pick at it. 

They decided to let him stay at their villa home once more. After having their reunion dinner, the Perlmans decided to leave the two alone for privacy, by going to a friend for after dinner wine. This was on their terms, this was their time. 

Oliver was different this time. His usual composure was one of insecurity, tension on two legs. He indulged in his wine at dinner, and not just for purposes of having something to pair with the meal. He needed to take the edge off, liquid courage. The roles almost reversed, Elio was eerily calm. He wanted to remember every moment of this night, of this encounter. With a clear conscience of every decision that would follow, once his parents left the two alone together. 

“So...” Elio began, sitting on the edge of the bed. The bed in which had moments shared between them, good and bad. The older male standing in the doorway, leaning against it. The brown haired boy could see through him, and almost see the trembling in Oliver’s eyes as he stood there, gazing at the boy he broke. 

“I’m sorry,” Oliver spoke, delicately as if he didn’t want the rest of the world beyond to hear him. Elio arched his eyebrows, feigning confusion. “For what?” his calm response. The older man took a shaky step forward, his defenses beginning to unravel around him. “For everything that went on,” he responded. “for abandoning you the way I did. For going on the way in how I did. How I let things get so far without a blueprint for how it would end,” Oliver spoke softly. 

“So do you regret last summer?” Elio asked. Oliver looked down, and around at his surroundings. He ran his hands through his blonde tresses, exhaling a shaky breath. “Yes and no,” his response after some time of silence. 

Another scab at the younger boy’s heart.

“I regret nothing, Oliver,” Elio spoke up, leaning slightly forward as his hands gripped the edge of the bed, his curled fingers holding on tightly to the blanket, almost feeling the material of the mattress underneath. He was winded by the confirmation. It didn’t matter if he said no, that he didn’t regret it, that it was just a half regret, at the end of it Oliver  _ regretted it  _ and that was all Elio could think of, as he noticed the moonlight’s gleam of his ringed finger. He paused for a moment, his eyes glazing over it, his lips in a hard line. “Real silver?” he questioned. 

Oliver took notice of where the younger’s eyes were placed, feeling vaguely more vulnerable and naked as he seen the evidence of what tore them apart, society’s norm. What was expected of him, nothing  different.  He examined the ring himself, feeling as though he was being disrespectful and tried to cover it with his other hand. “... yeah,” his flat response. 

Elio looked down, a twisted mixture of a scoff and chuckle rumbling from within. “It’s funny how you’re so unlike yourself. It’s as if I don’t even know you,” he said before looking back up at the man before him. Oliver stepped forward, cautiously in his stepping. “It’s difficult for me. I want so badly to unravel everything to you as I did before, to unravel even the things that have gone on since then, and to talk about the future... but, the moment my mouth opens, the words fail to compose themselves,” the older man said. 

“And why do you think that is?” the younger questioned, never leaving his spot, his composure still fixated as calm and collected as he’s ever been in his life. 

The man pondered for a time. Elio took notice of how his throat bobbled before responding. “I think it’s because I feel as though I don’t deserve to. I feel if I were to even lay a finger on you, my entire being would be set on fire,” Oliver spoke in return. 

Elio smiles softly at the man. “Don’t be silly, Oliver. I have a request that’ll confirm that’s just a fear and not a reality,” he said. Oliver’s eyes opened a bit at this. “Anything, anything you ask of me,” he said. “Hold me,” Elio’s response.

Oliver was taken aback by this, by nonetheless moved closer slowly to the young boy. Arms slowly extending out as he waited for a reaction, something to indicate that this was wrong and he should leave, get on a plane, and never return to something that shouldn’t have been disturbed in the first place. 

When he seen no rebuttal to the action, he drew the brunette in his arms, a feeling of tension but also tender relief battling within. The relief winning more at Elio moving in closer, taking the embrace fully. He inhaled in curly brown tresses, the scent of apricot apparent. 

“See? No fire ablaze. You’re safe, as you always were,” Elio cooed. For a moment, Oliver closes his eyes, taking it all in, secretly wishing for time to cease entirely, for this moment to go on for infinity, and even after infinity’s end. “Now that you’ve fulfilled one request, may I be bold enough to ask for another?” Elio asked, looking up at the man that he considered his everything. 

“And what that might be?” Oliver questioned. The boy smiles. “Just lay down on the bed. Let me do my thing. Please. Please. Let me have this one thing,” he pleaded with eyes vast as oceans.

Oliver pondered this for some time. “We would be crossing boundaries again,” he said. Elio shushed him with a fingertip to his lips that Oliver leaned into softly. “Please, just do this one thing,” he said. The older man opened his eyes, gazed into his for a moment, then proceeded to lay down. He couldn’t make out what Elio was doing when he leaned down under the bed, and when he stood back up again, made out in the moonlight’s sheen what appeared to be rope. “Oh, a fantasy being played out, hm?” Oliver chuckled.

Elio began to tie up his wrists and ankles to the posts of the bed. “Please... don’t embarrass me, it’s something I... always wanted to do,” he said with his tone shaking. The older man softly chuckled again, nodding away to the request, boundaries cast into the wind.

Oliver wanted to laugh at the position he was placed in. Laying out in star formation, tied up to fulfill one last lover’s tryst with the boy he so loved. But, he promised not to poke fun at the boy in question. Elio took a moment of pause to gaze upon him, and began roaming around the room. “It’s okay, take your time,” he said. “You know what I used to do when you weren’t around, last year?” Elio spoke. He rummaged through a drawer, and picked out a pair of red shorts. “I used to go through your clothes,” he continued. “I would look at them, touch them, wear them, smell them...”

The older man couldn’t help the laugh that radiated through his being. Elio looked on, his calm composure coming back, swallowing back any sense of nerves. “I even knew what colors corresponded with your mood that day. My favorites were always green and blue, but the one piece of clothing that always did something to me, was this red one...”

“Why the red? What did such a pair do to you? Tell me,” Oliver spoke, tone laced in a soft tone, a tone for lovers, a tone no other outsider would ever hope to hear. Elio disappeared under the bed again, popping back up and walking toward him with a soft expression. He sat next to him, smiling with all the love in the world in his irises, just for Oliver, in this moment. He reached out his hand to the man laid out, and his fingers brushed against his lashes, Elio’s tips closing his lids.

It was then Oliver realized the sensations of his mouth being opened ajar by the other’s soft fingertips. But then, he felt a tug.... on his tooth. He scrunched his brows in confusion, and felt an even stronger tug, a pull almost. He opened his eyes to see a pliers in his mouth. 

“They made me want to do this, because you always found a way to hurt me in them,” Elio said, a tinge of venom in his voice. Oliver tried to scream, but as soon as it was sounded out, the boy shoved the shorts into his now open mouth, pushing deep within, past the gag reflex but leaving the teeth still exposed, as the boy pulled back his upper lip with his thumb, his other hand holding onto the plier still and kept tugging away. Elio’s expression turned into a scrunched look of anger and focus, as he tightened the grip and pulled away until the tooth gave way, the rough extraction bleeding through his mouth and onto the fabric of the shorts. 

Oliver’s whole body shook with fear and intense pain, trying to break free from the confines of the ropes, but the more the tried the more his circulation was being cut off, due to the boy tying the rope just a bit  too  snug, to make sure he wouldn’t get away. “It’ll be over soon, don’t worry,” The man screamed as more teeth were extracted, and swallowing his own vomit pooling in his throat from the boy above him pushing more and more of the fabric down within his mouth. The excruciating pain was leaving him dizzied, and in a frenzy to escape. “These will make a lovely bracelet... I’ll keep them forever,” the boy said, eying at the bloodied molars he collected.

Tears were rolling down the man’s face, as blood and snot mixed together along with his tears, praying that this was just a nightmare until the other’s eyes drifted toward his hands. “You said the ring was real silver, did you not?” he asked, not expecting an answer back, but muffled screams as a response nonetheless.

The man thrashed in fear of what was to come next. Elio stood up then, next to the headboard, examining his hand. Oliver trying desperately to move it away as Elio took it in his own hands, and kissed away at his fingers, only stopped at the ringed finger. He then took the digit into his mouth, the grooves of his front teeth grazing into the skin along the edge almost connecting to the knuckle. Closing his eyes, he slowly clenched down on the flesh. Oliver began to scream again as he felt the sensation of his finger’s skin being penetrated, bit into. The boy began to clench harder. 

Elio was intoxicated by the moment, the wriggling of the finger desperate to leave his mouth, the screams, the way in how the bed shook violently. He closed his eyes to savor the moment, and with all of his force, bit as hard as he could until there was a snap, and the instant taste of copper spilling in his mouth. The blood splattered on the wall, the nightstand, anywhere within that proximity. The spot of the bed where the pillows lay was now drenched in the maroon liquid of his lover. He could relish in this art, but dreaded knowing it would have to be cleaned away later. 

The dismembered finger sat in the boy’s mouth, his tongue swiveling around the texture of the skin, the muscle and bone that only moments prior was a part of the older man’s hand. He also tasted metal, and maneuvered his tongue in such a way that the ring slipped off the served digit. Spitting away at his palm, blood mixed with spit along with the ring landing onto his opened hand. He drank in the flavor of his blood, the feeling euphoric, unlike anything he experienced before, and likely never will again. “Everything about you is so good. I was a fool to doubt for a second that even your blood would be something I’d crave,” Elio said, his mouth muffled by the digit still sitting there within. Oliver’s eyes were wide, as he stared at the foreign creature infront of him wearing the skin of his once beloved. His body shook again once he seen Elio’s throat bobble as he swallowed, and the sick smile on the boy’s face, blood staining his teeth and lips. “I couldn’t resist... funny, you looked so different whenever I’d swallow your load,” he said. 

“I saved the ring,” Elio said, looking at said object. “This little thing... symbolizing so much,” he spoke. “Symbolizing the choices you made. The choices that drove us apart,” he continued, fascinated by the ring, yet scrunching his brows in anger. “Something that you could’ve given me, in another time, another place, another life...” Oliver stilled his body, his mind unable to comprehend what was happening, unable to form a thought, unable to function properly. “The sight of it disgusts me,” he said, as he slid it on his thumb, looking at the broken man infront of him. 

“Remember the peaches we would eat together? Specifically, do you remember that  _ one  _ peach?” Oliver groaning through the fabric nearly suffocating him beneath the boy. “I want you to close your eyes. Can you do that for me, or do I have to?” Elio questioned. Oliver groaned wildly again, shutting his eyes. 

Elio hovered over the man, his hands touching his face, smoothing over his closed eyes with his thumb, circling around it. “Relax your eyes,” he said. Oliver kept groaning and trying to pull away. “Relax them!” Elio screamed out. The man shook beneath him, tears pooling out of his shut eyes as he relaxed them, keeping them closed. “The way in how your eye sockets feel, is almost similar to the way the peach felt, the way how the dip felt... before I did this to it,” he said stoically, as he applied pressure with his ringed thumb into the socket. 

Oliver began to scream again when he felt the pressure going into his eye, tried to once again wriggle free but to no avail, due to Elio’s hands cupped around his face and two thumbs now, fingering into the socket with force. The more Oliver squirmed, the tighter the hold. The instant his lashes went inward, there was a  squish sound. Elio broke through into his iris, the squelching sound mixed with the man’s screams was like the most beautiful Bach sonata to Elio’s ears. He felt the goop texture, the slime and other liquids as he gashed in with his thumbs more and more. The boy decided to spread his thumbs open ever so slightly, and smiled at his work as his wiggles around in the socket, feeling the ball squelch and begin to lose its form. He pulled his thumbs out, examining the damage as the man’s body heaved and vomit came up in particles past the shorts still in his mouth. 

The socket was now a gaping hole, marooned liquid seeping out along with entrails and lashes, a clumped mess as his lid fell flaccid over what once was his eyeball. Oliver screamed again when Elio proceeded to give the other eye his love and adoration, repeating the same method. “A peach could never replace the feeling of your eyes,” Elio said softly, as he took the ring off and jammed it into one of the now empty sockets. “That’s what you get for making me look at it.”

His body covered in splatters of blood and bits of vomit, he smiled at the progress he made. The boy leaned over the bed once more, digging beneath the bed, grabbing hold of a garden trowel. He began to unbutton Oliver’s shirt, and leaned downward to his chest to leave a trail of soft kisses as he grazed the flesh with the tip of the trowel. 

“Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio...” he whispered as he used the gardening tool to forcibly slice open the center of his chest. The man heaved and writhed, unable to take any more, the screams become anguished cries and pleads to stop, for God to save him, for anything to make this stop. The scarlet ribbon gashed along his torso, while the boy shushed the man’s sobs, an inexplicable sound wracking the man’s form. “I never meant for any of this,” Elio spoke, as he felt the nails of his fingers dig into the opening. “You pushed me to this point. You abandoned what we were, and come crawling back for  _closure_ ,  telling me you  _regretted it_ ,  and showing off that  _ ring  _ as if it were a trophy, your most prized possession, wondering if I  _ mind _ ,” the boy said, prying open the flesh. “What did you  _ think  _ was going to happen? You broke me in so many ways, and you just continue on, while my life is  _ fucked _ ,” his hand rummaging now into all of the muscles and organs that worked throughout his body. Oliver was now gurgling, his body vibrating from how much his body couldn’t handle the pain any longer. 

Elio grasped and pulled at what he felt was the vital organ, the heart. With a final scream, Oliver shook with all his might until his body gave out, as the boy pulled it from its cage, its cocoon, out into the open, the pulse stopping as he tugged from within. His hand dripping and covered in blood, entrails all along the sides of his bed, he stared at the organ in his palm. 

This was suppose to belong to him. Oliver was lifeless, a dismembered, unrecognizable corpse now. “I regret nothing, Oliver,” Elio said to the once beating heart, smiling. “I remember everything,” he whispered to himself as he tearfully looked on at the monstrosity that was once his beloved. 

“and now we have closure.”


End file.
